


We Shall Have Him

by seraph5



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, Light Angst, M/M, Priest Aziraphale, demon Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-01-24 12:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18571579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraph5/pseuds/seraph5
Summary: Crowley is charged with felling a priest for hell. Leading this particular priest into temptation, however, is not going to be easy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, this is meant to be a pretty light/fun/comedic kind of story though I do have a TW. 
> 
> Warning: Pedophilia is mentioned but not in a positive light and is not explored deeply.
> 
> Aside from that - hope ya'll enjoy.

“...Within 5 years we shall have im’” Hasturs voice echoed through the cemetery like a proud sermon. 

“Great” Crowley murmured in response as he watched the leaves swirl around his feet in a colourful autumnal blur. His concentration was drifting as it often did during his check-ins with his demonic counterparts. He wondered privately how any beings could meet and say the same things with the same inflection for thousands of years and assume any kind of significant progress. 

“....she will fall and upon my word, in 10 years we will av’ er” Ligur proclaimed a dark sneer on his face. Crowley glanced at his watch. There were 15 minutes remaining till his favourite patisserie in town opened. Following that was 10 minutes in which the baked goods would be at optimal temperature and taste. That gave him a very small window of opportunity to procure the peak breakfast experience in town.

“Crowley” 

Of course, they would be flavourful for the rest of the day and he could always miracle them back to the 10 min mark but if he could have them as originally intended it was preferable. 

“Crowley!”

“Oh, my turn is it?” Crowley asked and waved a hand dismissively keen to end the session “The war”

“The war?” Hastur asked as Crowley straightened his jacket and ceased leaning against a prostrate angel statue. 

“Yeah, that skirmish that's been going on a hundred or so years down south. Souls still coming in from that I'm sure of it” Crowley replied and turned toward the cemetery exit. Hastur's hand landed heavily on his shoulder. 

“Crowley we're all very impressed by your cunning in that particular dealing,” Hastur said sourly eyes glinting with resentment “but you can't keep relying on it as your main source of souls” 

In truth, there had been no cunning to his plan at all. He shouldn't in good conscience even take credit for any of those souls but he was a demon so conscience wasn't his top priority. He'd merely kidnapped a dignitary for a lark, honestly hoping to ruin the man's dinner plans but during the evening he'd spent with Crowley hostilities had broken out and a war had begun. Apparently, this dignitary was very good at keeping the peace. He'd also had a wicked sense of humour that Crowley rather appreciated.

“Alright, alright, I'll get on it this week” Crowley conceded distantly realising it had been almost 150 years to the day that that dignitary had died.

“ _They_ thought you might say that” Ligur said with a grin, “thought you could use some direction” 

“I don't know why you two don't just come out and say these things before Deeds of the Day” Crowley grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Ligur asked.

“What do _They_ need me to do?” Crowley replied shrugging off Hastur's hand with a polite jerk of his shoulder. 

“There is a priest in this village o’ yours-” Ligur began.

“Oh, a priest. Good. Easy. Same time next week?” 

“e's very meaningful to the other side,” Ligur said deliberately.

“e’s already saved many souls” Hastur added. 

“Very pious” Ligur concluded. Crowley looked from one to the other with the suspicion of a man being set up. 

“Aren't they all” Crowley smiled though it did not reach his eyes “I’ll hop to it then. Till next time. Au revoir” 

***

The village was picturesque with a distinct appreciation for artisanal quality. It was misleadingly quiet and Crowley had almost dismissed it as boring when he first came across it. He’d come for the wine and stayed for the concealed and beguiling web of adultery, theft and controversy. It had been his, for lack of a better word, home for a few years now. In spite of this, he had never run into the priest Ligur and Hastur mentioned as far as he could tell. In the cobbled town square stood an old tree said to have been the founding element of the hamlet. It was there that Crowley, warm croissant in hand, began his observation of the church.

The majority of the townsfolk where keen on the practice of attending he knew that much. They would pile in and out breathing life into the square as they came and went. Children would play and laugh. The adults would chatter. Crowley could see why heaven had their eye on this priest. To have such an enthusiastic congregation was rare. He, however, could not get eyes on him at all. After three days of watching the church’s comings and goings, he began to speculate that the priest never left at all. On the afternoon of the third day there was an older woman who visited the church bringing groceries and Crowley groaned with frustration. Evidently, he didn't even leave for food.

Priests, generally speaking, were easy prey for demons. The denial of many pleasures meant many avenues of temptation. Visiting that temptation on a priest who never left their church however was a challenge that suggested why Hastur and Ligur had been so delighted by his mission. Difficult it would be, but not impossible Crowley mused, formulating some ideas. As he deliberated he heard the creek of the old church doors opening and snapped to attention. 

“Finally” he grumbled. 

The man closed the doors behind him before stepping out into the midday sun. The light kissed his face and caught in his hair, so pale blond it might have been white. His skin was fair and painted with a healthy pink glow. His eyes were a verdant green. Crowley's hand tightened at his side. He wore a soft tan suit, a pale sky blue shirt and a dark gold vest. After a contented sigh, he began sweeping the leaves off the stairs that lead to the entrance of the church. Crowley wasn't sure what he expected the puritanical priest to look like but it wasn't this. The man looked more like a bookshop owner than a priest. But then, he supposed with a shrug, looks could be deceiving.

His sharp eyes flicked to a woman exiting the town's chocolaterie. Carmen was her name, she was a beautiful Spanish woman, bucksome, passionate and already carrying on three affairs in town that Crowley knew of. With a snap of his fingers, she remembered that she needed some bread from the opposite side of the square. Crowley felt a small thrill run down his spine as he eyed the priest waiting to see him notice her crossing the square. There was something delicious about watching humans fall. Her hips swayed sensually and she tossed her hair smiling up at the priest as she drew near. Crowley felt the barest hums of temptation entering the priests mind before he lifted a hand and waved. 

“Hello!” 

Carmen walked by. Crowley blinked. 

“Hello there!” The priest called again smiling from the top step of the church. Crowley realised with embarrassment the priest was talking to him. He had a fleeting thought of hiding before deciding that wasn’t a becoming course of action for a demon of hell.

“Uh…” Crowley said lamely with a small wave “Hi”

“Don't believe I recognize you, dear boy, are you new to town?” The priest called his voice was friendly and refined. Crowley looked around a little ensuring no one was watching then made his way over to the church.

“No, I've been here a few years now” Crowley responded. 

“Oh” the priest said cheeks deepening in shade. 

“But I wouldn't blame you for not noticing” Crowley found himself saying, “You don't seem to get out a lot”

“No. Haha I suppose you're right..?” the priest said voice trailing off clearly searching for a name.

“Crowley” Crowley replied wondering if Anthony mightn't have been a less conspicuous option. 

“Crowley” The priest said with a nod. 

“So what is keeping you so busy in there father?” Crowley asked, now only a foot or so from the church gate. 

“You could come in and have a look” he said with the air of a man excited to share his work.

“No!” Crowley yelped and the priest started at the sharpness of his tone.

“uh.. I uh...I actually remembered I have a place I need to be…” Crowley added pointing vaguely to the downtown area. The thought of the scalding he would receive upon stepping foot in the church made him shudder. 

“Oh. Well. Perhaps next time then” the priest accepted with a slightly confused air as Crowley pivoted the direction of his walk away from the church.

“Perhaps” Crowley muttered. 

***

Crowley decided to lie low for a few days while deciding on his next move. He skimmed the general sentiments of humans on a fairly regular basis. Any man he’d ever seen come into contact with Carmen, and a handful of women, felt some base attraction for her. The priest’s negligible reaction to her suggested women weren’t really his bag. Next on the list of temptations, though he was loathed to admit it, was a child. He couldn't imagine the priest being interested in children but he knew better than to dismiss the possibility. The orchestration of such an event took more planning than the first and so it was on the evening before the next Deeds of the Day Crowley took his second shot. 

He lurked on a side street leading into the town square. It was common for the town streets to be almost completely empty at this time of night. A perfect stage for what was to follow. Orange light burned warmly from the windows of the church casting a glow across the square. Crowley rolled up his sleeves. First, he gestured to the sky. His hands drew a complex shape in the air and clouds began to roll in. Next, he turned to the streets and beckoned wind to blow through them. Finally, on the wind he threaded the unmistakable smell of sweets cooking. The wind blew on carrying the scent to a little boy that lived less than a block away. He was reading under his covers long after he should have been asleep when the smell of baking sweets curled through his window and under his doona. Crowley slid into the shadows and waited. 

Thunder rumbled as the moon was enveloped by storm clouds and the streets fell into darkness. The boy, having followed the scent of baking treats, rounded the corner. As he eyed the town square to see where the smell was coming from it began to rain. He started to think better of his adventure and the mounting chances his parents would realise he was missing. Then he heard a strange sound. It was like whispering in spite of there not being another soul in sight. He shivered instinctually. He backed away from the square and turned to retrace his steps then froze in horror. Something long and black and huge was rising from the darkness through the curtain of rain. Lightning cracked revealing the fangs of a giant snake. It hissed lashing forward. The boy screamed and took off running toward the last source of light - the church. He scrambled towards it - the cobbles slick beneath his feet. In his panic, he did not watch his footing and slipped crashing to the stone. He began wailing whilst still frantically eyeing the space around him for the snake he'd seen. Crowley in his original form made his way around to the side of the church keeping to the shadows as he went.

The church doors opened light surrounding the child. 

“Goodness me” the priest exclaimed. Without hesitation, he descended the steps to the crying child. 

“Can you get up?” the priest asked over the sound of the growing rain. The boy shook his head through tears and screamed about a monster. The priest eyed the square for said monster before resolutely scooping the boy up and taking him into the church. Crowley slithered over the church fence, into the garden and up a tree that gave him a view into the church windows. He searched for the sting of human temptation. 

He watched the priest carry the boy down the centre aisle and set him down at the front pew. He inspected a graze on the boy's knee and spoke softly to him. He asked a question and the boy removed his jacket handing it to the priest. Crowley held his breath. The priest smiled then swept out of the nave. When he returned he brought a blanket, a cup of cocoa and a bandaid. He wrapped the blanket around the boy's shoulders, gave him the coca and set to dressing his graze. The waves of kindness emanating from the scene were so strong they almost made Crowley lose his grip on his perch. He resolutely shook the daze and closed off his sense of the human's emotions. The priest sat down by the boy and began pointing to something behind the altar. The priest appeared to be telling him a story. Crowley's curiosity piqued and he tried to get a better look. The trees were placed too far from the windows to see the altar. He considered changing back into human form to get a better look but was interrupted by two worried adults striding up to the church. Crowley slithered down to the damp ground and back to the front of the church to see the exchange stomach dropping.

“Thank you so much for taking him in father Aziraphale,” The woman said lifting the boy into her arms while the husband covered them with an umbrella “I hope he wasn't any trouble”

“Not at all” The priest, Aziraphale, Crowley noted, said pleasantly in response “he just got a bit of a shock that's all. Take care heading home now”

“We will” the husband replied and they departed both soothing and chiding the boy as they made their way into the night. 

As Aziraphale watched the family leave Crowley noticed something distant about his expression. A stillness to his form. He suddenly appeared rather small standing there in the rain. Without thinking Crowley found himself being drawn toward him but before he could come fully into view Aziraphale turned quietly and headed back inside. 

Crowley blinked uncomfortably. He’d, unthinkably, nearly revealed himself to the priest in his original form. 

***  
“You whot?” Hastur asked.

“I frightened a child” Crowley repeated slowly. The air was crisp the following morning. Frosted leaves crunched beneath Crowley's feet as he shifted his weight. He ducked his head slightly into his collar to avoid the cold air nipping at the nape of his neck. 

“Your Deed is you frightened a child?” Hastur echoed.

“He was terrified” Crowley exclaimed “Skinned his knee and everything” 

“Aw forgive me! I didn't realise e’ was terrified. I'll get right onto the dark lord and let im’ know personally” 

“Learned about sarcasm have we,” Crowley asked, “now who's going native?”

“You were supposed to fell the priest” Ligur said ignoring their bickering.

“I'm working on it” Crowley retorted. 

“Proving a bit of a challenge? Not falling for the regular stuff?” Ligur asked with mock concern and Hastur chuckled darkly before adding

“Priests can be difficult”

Crowley was losing patience as his suspicions mounted. 

“What aren't you telling me?” Crowley hissed. 

Hastur and Ligur shared a look. Hastur leaned forward.

“The priest is gonna be an angel one day” he hushed in a deep rough tone. 

Crowley laughed for a moment before realising Hasturs expression wasn't changing. 

“That's not possible. Humans can't become angels” Crowley said. 

“This one will” Ligur replied.

“It's impossible” Crowley said shaking his head.

“It's not for us to say what's possible,” Hastur said reverently as if the line were a sacred bond.

“We need only do what’s necessary” Ligur agreed. 

“Yes but-”

“Can you do the job or not Crowley?” Hastur asked. 

Crowley swallowed his incredulity. 

“Of course I can”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrested development voiceover: he could not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter :D

Crowley sauntered down the stairs of his apartment, put on his glasses and stepped out into the sun. He made his way to his favourite local cafe a few doors down and picked a seat outside. The droning of the morning hubbub quickly reduced to a soothing hum in Crowley's mind as he sipped his coffee. 

Most demons looked upon their divine purpose of defiling humans as an art. It took timing. Finesse. Occasionally it took creativity and Crowley knew for a fact he was one of the more creative demons in existence. It was why, in spite of his excessively casual approach to evil, he was still favoured by hell. It was why when difficult cases occurred he was called on. This would-be angel was clearly going to require a more tailored temptation. Not just any vice would do. Had he known what he was up against, he thought cursing Hastur and Ligur, his previous attempts might have had different results. He needed to know more about Aziraphale, that much was clear, and the fastest way to do that was gossip.

He lazily settled into his spot in the sun putting out a vibe to the chattering humans around him that Aziraphale was worth talking about and waited. The gossip network didn't disappoint. Supposedly Aziraphale had come to the town because of a prophecy he received from God. Apparently, Aziraphale had an early 17th century Château d'Yquem Sémillon gifted to him by the pope. Purportedly, he owned an anonymously penned symphony that was, in fact, one of Beethoven's early works. Ostensibly, Aziraphale had once bedded a member of the Royal family. Which royal family the gossip could not say but Crowley smirked, amused at the various delicious levels of lies and truths. Then he noticed something through the crowd and jolted upright from his slouched position. He pulled down his glasses slightly to get a clear view. Through the crowd, without mistake, was the placid-faced priest.

He jumped up almost knocking his small table over. He shoved his chair back and snaked his way through the cafe to the street flicking a coin over his shoulder. As it hit the table it multiplied to the proper amount. He dodged and weaved through the crowd till he was a mere few meters behind Aziraphale. 

The priest was walking an easy pace admiring the charming old shop fronts as he went. Occasionally, he checked a piece of paper he was carrying or greeted someone. After a while, he entered a grocer and Crowley hung back outside. He knew it wouldn't be long till hell would start losing patience for his non-existent progress on what, on that face of it, should be an easy task. He took a breath out, straightened his glasses and waited. By a stroke of luck, Aziraphale was looking over his shoulder to say goodbye to the shop owner as he exited the store. Crowley swiftly bumped into him. 

Aziraphale fell back against the door frame dropping his bags. The contents sprawled onto the ground, though miraculously nothing broke.

“Sorry” Crowley said as he bent to collect up the items on the ground “I wasn't looking where I was going” 

“Oh no, it's quite alright” Aziraphale laughed straightening his clothes and picking the second bag up “I wasn't really looking either. Not out in crowds much” 

“I remember” Crowley replied meeting Aziraphale's gaze.

“Hello” Aziraphale's face lit up “you're that fellow from the square the other day um Crowley was it?” 

“Yesss” Crowley hissed accidentally. He cleared his throat and continued “and you're Aziraphale I hear” 

“Oh you found out did you?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley picked up the last errant item and placed it in the assembled bag. 

“That's not all I found out” Crowley replied fighting to keep a suggestive tone out of his voice. To Crowley's surprise, Aziraphale chucked. 

“Small town rumours eh?” Aziraphale said holding out his free arm to take the first bag “The ultimate game of fact or fiction”

Crowley looked from Aziraphale’s hand to his face for a purposeful moment. 

“You know, I'm not headed anywhere right now” Crowley said as if the thought had only just occurred to him “What if I help you carry these home? Seems a lot for one person” 

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale asked “I don’t want to impose” 

“Of course’” Crowley said stepping back to make way for Aziraphale to walk past “It’ll give us a chance to chat” 

“Well that’s very kind of you” Aziraphale said and began walking. Crowley fell in step beside him.

“So why are you out of church today?” Crowley enquired. 

“Funny you should ask” Aziraphale replied “It was actually what you said to me the other day” 

“What? Really?” Crowley asked a hint of pride coming over him. Perhaps he had already set the priest on the path to fall without knowing it. Being out in the world certainly left the man more susceptible to the possibility of sin. 

“Yes. When you said I don’t get out much I realised I've been so wrapped up in my work I've been neglecting connecting with my community” Aziraphale explained “So I’ll be holding a book fair on the church grounds later in the week to help bring everyone together a bit more. You know, get to know my congregation in a less formal setting”

“Great” Crowley muttered. He had set him on a path to further virtue. 

“I do hope they enjoy it” Aziraphale sighed worriedly. 

“Is that what all this is for?” Crowley asked lifting the bag in his arm. 

“Yes I thought I might bake for it” Aziraphale answered, “Are you interested in books?” 

Crowley didn’t tend to read a lot though he had met many famous authors throughout history. Famous people intrigued him and sometimes he would travel for the sole purpose of meeting one. Though there were few he could mention without drawing undue curiosity. 

“I do read occasionally but I’m more interested in the authors than the books themselves” Crowley summarised his thoughts “What about you?”

“Oh I adore them” Aziraphale said wistfully, “You think of all the time and care that went into every element of them. The hours labouring over the words, the printing and binding, the detailing work on the covers not even to speak of the prose!”

Crowley couldn’t help smiling as he listened to Aziraphale gush. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to someone so passionate about literature. 

“All the adventures you can have with books. All the places in the world you can go! Oh Petra, Venis, Egypt, Paris, London, Australia...” His excitement seemed to soften abruptly and when Crowley searched his expression he added “even places that don’t exist...” 

Crowley began to ask if he were alright when Aziraphale brightly cut him off. 

“In any case you are quite welcome to join us at the fair”, he said reaching out and patting Crowley’s arm warmly. 

“Ok” Crowley agreed fondly “Saturday? Sunday?” 

“Sunday after mass” Aziraphale confirmed. 

“Lovely. Now, what’s this about you bedding a member of a royal family?”

***

Crowley stared at his bookshelf at length. He didn’t have a large collection but for his purposes, he didn’t need one. He only needed 1 novel. He found its spine and slipped it out of place. It was one of few he had felt a resonance within the last century and was banned by both church and state. He walked slowly over to his kitchen table pausing at its edge. He pulled out butcher paper and wrapped the book with red string. 

***

Paper flags of yellow, orange, red and metallic gold fluttered on strings above the church grounds. Beneath them, a vigorous game of chasey was being conducted by children in their Sunday best. Crowley approached the rabble with an affection he firmly denied himself he had developed. As he entered the church grounds he followed the path around to the right near the tree he had perched in a week previous. In the daylight, he could see the lawn surrounding the church was bordered with flowers and trees and a winding path ran through the middle. On either side of the path, various tables were set up with different kinds of books, local crafts and food stalls. At the end of the path, Aziraphale’s table sat stacked high with cakes and buzzing with cheerful townsfolk. 

Crowley browsed the stands leading up to the table till a decent amount of the crowd had cleared away. Crowley couldn’t help but wonder if he imagined the spring in Aziraphale’s step as he strode over to him. 

“Crowley you came” Aziraphale exclaimed and before Crowley could reply an older woman seemed to appear from nowhere beside him. He recognized her as the woman that brought shopping to the church at the beginning of Crowley's surveillance.

“Is this your mystery man Farther?” She asked eyeing him appreciatively. 

“Crowley this is Madame Tracy, Madame Tracy this is Crowley” Aziraphale introduced them. Crowley shook her hand hospitably. 

“Madame Tracy helps me out around the church and does a spot of food shopping for me when I get busy” Aziraphale explained. 

“Charmed” She crooned eyeing him meaningfully “So you’re the one that helped him home with his bags the other day?” 

“Guilty” Crowley replied. 

“He kept it to himself but I heard Anathema Device talking to Newton Pulsifer about it at bingo the other night” She giggled and Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

“Really Madame,” He said exasperatedly “There was nothing to tell” 

“How is the book fair going?” Crowley asked saving Aziraphale from Madame Tracy’s prying. 

“Wonderfully. We’ve had so many people take home books and trade books. I’ve had a few people recommend me some. I’ve spoken to most of the congregation. It’s been a truly lovely day” Aziraphale said proudly. 

“And just perfect weather for it” Madame Tracy clucked “We almost cancelled what with how the rain was looking towards the end of the week”

“Good luck I suppose” Crowley replied eyeing the crystalline sky innocently.

“Good to get him outside in the fresh air and away from that ruddy wall,” Madam Tracy said as if scolding Aziraphale. 

“What wall?” Crowley asked, amused. 

“Oh, he hasn’t told you?” Madame Tracy replied.

“I guess not” Crowley eyed Aziraphale whose brow furrowed with frustration.

“He’s just being shy” She whispered loudly. 

“I’m not being shy” Aziraphale protested handing out another slice of cake to a local “I tried to show it to him the first time we met” 

“He’s been restoring a holy painting that was rendered on the back wall of our church” Madame Tracy explained.

“That’s why you’re indoors all the time?” Crowley asked, surprised.

“Indeed” Aziraphale answered, “Would you like to see it?”

Crowley hesitated.

“I understand the best view is from the front doors” Aziraphale offered helpfully. Crowley nodded though he was instantly concerned. Aziraphale clearly suspected he was reluctant to enter the church.

“I’ll man the stand. Off you go” Madame Tracy volunteered striding behind the table. The two of them headed down the path.

"I know some people can be uncomfortable with religion and churches," Aziraphale said quietly gesturing to the stone facade "Whatever your reasons may be for avoiding entering I don't mind. I won't pry" 

"Oh...thank you" Crowley replied relief washing through him. 

"Of course if you ever want to talk about it I'm a good listener" Aziraphale offered kindly.

"I'll bear that in mind" 

Both church doors still hung wide open from mass so as they ascended the steps the painting came into view. Soft beams of light streamed in from the church windows, illuminating the cavernous space. The back wall was completely covered in a faded but glorious scene. Much of the wall featured a muted brown colour scheme but bursting out from the centre was a section of brilliant colour. This colour revealed a woman with a radiant face under a silk cloak that was so perfectly captured it looked real. In her arms rested the most beautiful child Crowley had ever seen. His eyes were deep, kind and wise as though he had known man since the beginning of time. They were placed against an elegant intricate gold backing. Crowley covered his mouth.

“It’s…superb” Crowley whispered despite himself wondering at the secrets that lay beneath the dark untouched sections.

“Thank you. It’s truly becoming my life’s work” Aziraphale said. 

“Who painted it? Michelangelo?” Crowley asked in awe. He could see a master's hand at work in the strokes. 

“Couldn’t say. Seems to have an effect on people though” Aziraphale replied. 

“I can imagine,” Crowley remarked distantly before remembering back to the gossip he’d picked up the other day “Is this what the ‘prophecy’ was about?”

“Gracious people do talk” Aziraphale laughed then hesitated “Yes...I don’t know if you believe this sort of thing…”

“Try me” Crowley said barely hiding a smirk. 

“Well, when I was a younger man an angel visited me. I was out taking the country air when he appeared before me as real as you appear to me now. He introduced himself as Gabriel and told me I had a divine purpose. I was to travel here to this town and restore this painting as an ultimate expression of my devotion. He said when finished it would inspire many people to turn to god. He said when completed...religious leaders would find their grounding in this work….” Aziraphale explained though he seemed reluctant to finish the thought. Little did he know Crowley knew Gabriel. Little did he know Crowley thought Gabriel was a prat. 

“That’s not all eh?” Crowley asked pushing for more of Gabriel’s prophecy.

“Apparently when it’s complete…..” Aziraphale said slowly “it will inspire a prophet to rise” 

Crowley nodded as the reasoning behind hell’s insistence on felling him and the possibility of him being the first human in history to become an angel slotted into place. 

“Seems like important work” Crowley replied distantly. 

“Yes…” Aziraphale matched his tone. 

“How long do you think it will take you?” Crowley asked curiously. 

“Maybe...another 30 years if I keep my current pace,” Aziraphale said lightly “I might get an apprentice at some point to speed things up” Crowley eyed the man. Handsome though he was he did not seem especially young and human lives were short at best, fleeting at worst. 

“How old are you?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale paused for a long moment. Many humans would be flustered by this question but Aziraphale was unflapped. 

“50” Aziraphale said resolutely his tone ringing with a mortal finality before moving the subject back to a safer area “Seems a long time to wait to see something so magnificent finished” Crowley nodded in melancholy agreement. 

The light in Aziraphale’s eyes had faded. Crowley thought on the dichotomy of a holy brand of servitude. A human life, small in the eyes of an immortal, frittered away for the forwarding of the divine plan. 

The alternative of an eternal damnation of endless pain, sleepless nightmares and a loveless void was worse. Aziraphale was not even aware of the wider wars raging over his life or the knife's edge of fate he walked. All he knew, all he could possibly know, was that the rest of his life would be bent on one town, one room, one wall. It wasn’t in a demons nature to feel remorse but it stabbed deeply into him standing side by side with this singular remarkable human. He lifted the book from his side gripping it tight between his fingers. 

“I have a gift for you” He said soberly and handed the parcel over “It’s a book from London” 

“Whatever for, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked with surprise taking the gift and eyeing it's wrapping gratefully.

“Well this being a book fair and all I thought it might be nice for you to walk away with a book you haven’t read and I get the feeling you won’t have read this one” Crowley answered tapping its cover in Aziraphale's hands. 

“Thank you” Aziraphale said words deep with feeling. He pulled the book to his chest “I shall begin it this evening”

Crowley was overcome with the same urge he’d had the night Aziraphale patched up the frightened boy. Crowley wanted to reach for him. He crossed his arms tightly instead and returned his gaze firmly to the back wall.

*** 

Crowley coiled his way onto the church grounds in his original form. It was later that evening and he'd returned to ensure his deed would be been done. It was easier to go by unseen in this form though it felt apropos for what he was about to do. He crawled on his belly to the apartment at the back of the church. He slithered around raising himself up to peek through the windows until he found the right one. The curtains were drawn but there was enough of a crack in the curtain to see the humble cozy living room within. There was a large armchair by the fire with a tartan blanket laid neatly over the back. Within it sat Aziraphale, snuggled in, feet up and crossed on a footstool. On the end of his nose perched delicate reading glasses. In his hands carefully he held the book. The cover read The Well of Loneliness. Aziraphale looked warm and soft in the reading light and Crowley shivered in the dark. He sank back down to the ground, curled up and opened his senses wretchedly. He waited to feel Aziraphale fall.

Inside the room, Crowley felt the sweet and bitter swells of a heart moved. He felt the ebbs and flows of longing and loss. He watched the shadows move across the yard to the beat of one racing heart. All the while he felt drawn in almost irresistibly till his head was pressed against the wall of the apartment - as close as he could be to Aziraphale and he ached. Crowley ached in way he didn’t know he could. Deeper than in his skin and muscles and flesh. Deeper than in his bones he ached. 

And then in a flash that felt unending, like a perverse kind of magic, it was morning. Crowley realised aghast that he had, at some point, fallen asleep. He quickly raised himself up to look through the window. Inside Aziraphale slept peacefully in the armchair, the finished book in his lap. Crowley searched Aziraphale’s soul and then after a moment smiled a snakes smile. 

He had not fallen. 

***

Crowley strode cheerfully into the graveyard. He had no deed. He had no plan. He had no comprehension of how he could make Aziraphale fall. Gorgeous Carmine had not worked. The boy had not worked. The banned book had not worked. In retrospect, he supposed, though the sensors and indeed the church had condemned the piece the representatives of those establishments did not always faithfully represent what was and wasn't sin.

It was hard to deny that these truths all pleased him. That the idea that Aziraphale's soul was safe from eternal damnation made him feel alive in a very undemonic way. He was, in fact, keen to drop in on Aziraphale and ask what he thought of the novel. More than that he was keen to just be near him again. 

He rounded the winding path to the only crossroads in the cemetery. There, like twisted cartoon characters on an X, stood the sullen figures of Hastur and Ligur.

“Well guys he evaded my wiles again” Crowley tried to restrain his exaggerated disappointment keen to get through his scolding and back into town “He's a tricky character this one. Fear not though I shall have him-that is to say we-hell shall have him of that I can guarantee. I just need a bit more time-”

“Wot are you goin on about?” Hastur asked incredulously. 

“...the priest” Crowley clarified “Or is that old news?”

“Don’t play dumb” Ligur growled shaking his head “e’ fell this mornin'”

“Enough showboatin'” Hastur snapped in agreement.

Crowley felt ill.

“Quite inventive method you ad’” Hastur admitted begrudgingly “Never woulda thought of it”

“Yes” Crowley agreed heart hammering sickly as he backed away “Would you excuse me for a moment guys I just need to do something”


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley was a demon that generally enjoyed moving fast. Normally this came in the form of a slick car or previously a black stallion. This morning it came in the form of an inelegant sprint into town. If it weren’t an hour that humans were out and about at he might have flown. He scrambled across the cobbles towards the church heart in his mouth. He raced up the entrance steps freezing when he hit the landing. The doors were open and Aziraphale was vacuuming the carpet leading down the aisle facing away. Endearingly he was whistling and shuffling as if to a tune only he could hear. 

Crowley's mind raced with questions. How could Aziraphale have fallen? He was safe when Crowley had left in the wee hours of the morning and seemed safe now. Crowley's jaw clenched, afraid, for the first time in his long life, to search the soul of a human. He couldn't deny that there was something about the way Aziraphale's soul felt that was all-encompassing. A magnetism that when he opened himself to it was undeniable. But he had to know why he had fallen. As he prepared himself to act Aziraphale looked over his shoulder as if he sensed Crowley was there and beamed. Crowley swallowed trying to alleviate his suddenly dry mouth. 

"Crowley" he said warmly switching off the vacuum cleaner "I was hoping to see you today! That book was jolly good. I ended up finishing it in one sitting!" 

Crowley seized himself. He was a demon of hell, not some scared child. He opened his senses up to Aziraphale. Aziraphale turned to face him and a wave of feeling broke over his body. Strong and tender. Feirce and familiar. Vexatious and sweet. Aziraphale walked towards him and Crowley began stepping forward too unable to hold himself back. He wasn't supposed to be able to sense it but he knew nothing else could be as powerful and frightening.

Crowley reached out towards him.

"Aziraphale-" he said then a scream ripped out of his chest and he fell to the scalding holy ground. He'd stepped into the church. He jumped up smoke billowing from his charred knees and hands and threw his body back out onto the marble landing outside. He swore holding his charred skin biting back the agony. He opened his eyes a slit to see Aziraphale rushing over expression a picture of horror and confusion. 

"Good lord!" He cried helping lift Crowley into a sitting position staring rapidly from the spot where Crowley had stood to his injuries "What happened? Are you alright?" 

Crowley smiled in spite of his pain. 

"I can get some salve from the first aid kit" Aziraphale said inspecting Crowley's burned hands tenderly. Crowley watched Aziraphale’s concern his very being aching to close the distance. 

"I'm alright and I can explain" Crowley said staring into his eyes "but first-"

He leaned in and kissed Aziraphale. His glasses bumped Aziraphale's nose but he didn't care. Aziraphale's lips were yielding and divine. Crowley drew a sharp breath in through his nose, startled by the strength of his pleasure. Aziraphale had jolted momentarily then melted into him, grasping at his jacket and pulling him closer. Crowley could feel goosebumps pitter-pattering across his skin. Crowley kissed him like it would be the only time he ever would. For all he knew it was. He kissed him again and again Aziraphale letting out a pleased hum before Crowley finally leaned back. 

"Sorry" Crowley apologised headily. 

"Perf-perfectly fine" Aziraphale stammered blushing heavily trying to gather his thoughts "I didn't know...I didn't think...but I'm glad…"

His radiant eyes met Crowley's crinkling at the corners with joy.

'What on Earth is going on?" He asked confusion mixing with delight. Crowley brushed Aziraphale's knuckles with his own for a moment before speaking.

"Well here’s the thing..." Crowley said committing the details of Aziraphale's soul to his memory "...I'm a demon"

"What?" Aziraphale asked mouth quirking with amusement. Crowley reached up and grasped his glasses carefully, trying to avoid touching any burned parts of his hands.

"I'm a demon from hell" he repeated pulling them down and away to reveal two golden slitted eyes. Aziraphale stood and unconsciously stepped back over the threshold into the church. There was a long silence as Aziraphale regarded him searching his gaze and trying to absorb the information he was being given.

"...no..." Aziraphale eventually said shaking his head "demons don't exist"

"I'm as real as Gabriel and at least 3 times more interesting" he said failing to keep a tone of superiority out of his voice. Aziraphale did not find it funny. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked breathlessly arms unconsciously clutching around his abdomen. He looked pale and his distress sunk like a stone to the pit of Crowley's stomach taking his witticism with it.

"I found this village a few years ago and liked it" Crowley admitted glancing out at the view from the church landing. He realised he'd never shared that with another soul "Great food. Great wine. Great people. So I decided to stay and then a few weeks ago I was charged with making you fall from grace" 

Aziraphale's shook his head with disbelief. 

“I tried a few times and then I realised I didn’t want to succeed” Crowley explained “I failed till I realised what I wanted was you exactly as you are” Aziraphale swallowed audibly.

"But….you're a demon" Aziraphale said hurt staining his words "you can’t possibly care..."

"It's not usually my scene it's true...but you are an exception" Crowley replied honestly "and...no matter what I wanted...you fell anyway"

“what?...No!” Aziraphale exclaimed “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t done anything wrong. This must be a mistake” 

Crowley nodded heart aching for his sincerity. 

“It is a sin” Crowley spoke as soothingly as he could “To love a demon” 

He pushed himself shakily to his aching feet and staggered towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale backed away bumping into the pew closest to the door. Crowley approached the threshold of the church.

“Don’t!” the word leapt from Azirphale’s mouth unbidden and concerned. Crowley stopped inches short of the entrance glancing from the threshold at his feet to Aziraphale. Crowley picked his next words carefully.

"We haven't known each other long” Crowley said with conviction “Something I want to remedy...but believe me when I say I have been on earth for centuries alone. Which means I am singularly qualified to recognise loneliness"

Aziraphale stared at him shoulders slumped and defenceless. 

"You don't need to be alone anymore," he said “You don’t need to be here anymore if you don’t want either” 

"What else could there be?" Aziraphale asked in a small voice “You’re a demon how could I ever trust anything you say?” 

"Being a demon is less…. black and white than you might think. Especially in my case" Crowley explained using air quotes "I'm not what you might call a "model citizen" of hell" 

Aziraphale fell silent for a moment. He sighed deeply then returned to the threshold of the church. 

"Perhaps I could…save your soul?" Aziraphale offered.

"I'm afraid that can't be done. Eternal punishment wouldn't be much of a damnation deterrent if there were a way to take it back" Crowley replied feeling the heat of the holy air veiling Aziraphale. 

"But…..” Crowley said slowly narrowing his eyes with a realisation “not impossible for you" 

“How do you mean?" Aziraphale asked. 

"Demons can't be saved. I am serving out an eternal sentence for the unthinkable crime of curiosity but it's pretty much never too late for a human" Crowley said words gaining speed "You could for example leave here with me. Travel the world, lavishly, explore, read, eat, drink to your heart's content. Sin your days away and at the end of your life repent and be saved"

Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he listened to Crowley’s proposition and the wild possibilities therein. 

"But what about the prophecy, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked reluctantly “The painting...the prophet…” 

Crowley looked past Aziraphale to the glorious scene peeking out from behind the murky uncleaned darkness.

“I’m not going to lie to you. Heaven chose you for this purpose so without you, I’m honestly not sure it will get done. There are a lot of people who could do it - whether they will I couldn’t say” Crowley measured his words carefully “As for the prophet....do you know how many prophets there have been?”

“40...50?” Aziraphale guessed trying to remember the details he knew about the prophets. 

“Hundreds” Crowley replied “Confirmed and unconfirmed in every country, throughout all of human history. Rich and poor. Women and men. Heaven not having this one prophet is not going to be the end of the world, _trust me_ ” 

Aziraphale fidgeted but he seemed to be relenting his position. Crowley grinned devilishly at the temptation he could feel burning in Aziraphale.

“You‘ve already done so much good here since you arrived. Don’t you think it’s time you did some good for yourself?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale met Crowley’s gaze leaning forward slightly. The tang of the longing he felt from Aziraphale set his teeth on edge. 

"Let me tempt you Aziraphale" he purred hovering so close to the threshold and to Aziraphale that the heat of it brushed his nose "let me show you everything" 

*****

Hastur and ligur plodded dutifully onto the cemetery grounds for morning Deeds. 

“Wot do yo think e’ll ave this time?” Ligur asked balefully.

“Dunno. Kicked a puppy?” Hastur suggested.

“Replaced the sugar in one of the bags at the grocers with salt” Ligur offered.

“Flashed a nun?” Hastur snickered.

“Ohh yeah that was a good’n. E' asn’t done any of that nonsense since the middle ages” Ligur cackled. As they approached their regular meeting spot they noticed a note pinned to one of the gravestones. Hastur lifted it up to read it.

“You’ve got to be kiddin me” Hastur said handing the note to Ligur.

“Can he do this?” Ligur snarled. 

The note read:

_Following my success felling the only human in history to be slated for angelhood I have elected to take a century holiday. I anticipate returning to work with renewed vigour. For further information feel free to contact the other dukes of hell, though when last I spoke to them they did remark on their lack of patience for insubordination._

_Ta, Crowley._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading along and commenting everyone! It's been nice doing a bit of a recurring thing again. I might maybe do another chapter for this eventually but this is the end of this story arc. I hope you've enjoyed it!


End file.
